Thankyou, Dean Winchester
by Bluegrass
Summary: When 'thank-you' is definitely not what you want to hear.


A/N: A mention in despatches for my fellow Dean and Sammy lovers, Lillehafrue and GrumpyMagrat. Thanks for the help guys. Credit also most definitely belongs to the Great Kripke for giving us the boys and to CW.

Thank You, Dean Winchester

The heat was stifling; pervasive and unrelenting. And he was hot; gawd, he was so hot. There was no respite, no relief. He was burning up; his whole being feeling like it was on fire, yet never consumed. No, they would never let him be consumed. That would be too easy; too much of a kindness and that was definitely one thing they weren't. They took too much delight in his suffering to ever put an end to it.

"You son-of-a-bitch....putrefying hell-scum. Why am I back here? You...you can't bring me back," Dean snarled, straining hopelessly against the fiery chains that held him; his attempt at bravado barely concealing the terror he was feeling inside.

Alistair's mocking laughter resounded throughout the Pit. "Dean, you flatter me...you really do. Glad to see you've regained some of that _feistiness _you had when you first came to us......," he purred, hissing out the word for emphasis, "....before I broke you. And I did enjoy breaking you, Dean. But I give you credit....you lasted longer than most."

The hunter struggled again, fear and pain ripping through his body at knowing what that meant, knowing what lay ahead of him, again. He couldn't be back here again, he just couldn't.

"But yes...I see how this must be confusing for you," the demon continued on in rhetorical musing, before spinning back round to face his captive. "For a start...it's because we own you, Dean. Remember!"

As if to reinforce the point, a fiery whip cracked viciously across his back, tracking a gouge of searing flesh. Dean bit down hard; his body strained and trembling but determined not to scream.

The young hunter was confused, boy was he ever confused. Surely he still had a job to do; his mission from God. Sammy still needed saving; he was working on it. What hadn't he done! What had he done wrong! And more confusing; why hadn't Cas stopped it from happening...if he still had a purpose to fulfil! Dean's mind railed against the injustice.

"You...you don't own...jack shit," Dean managed to grind out. "I was pulled out......."

"Ahh, yes. Castiel. Gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition," Alistair finished for him, laughingly gesturing with a sweep of a hand. "He always did have a flair for the dramatic...but then I guess that's part of his charm," he added, drawing a finger seductively over the raised angry red welts of the handprint. It made the eldest Winchester sick to his stomach.

Okay, so the sick son-of-a-bitch knew just exactly what Castiel had told him. "Yeah, well, when he finds out what you've done, you sorry-ass-sons-of-bitches are toast."

"Dean...Dean, such faith....such devotion," the silken-tongued demon crooned in admiration. "And after all those years of such devout scepticism and poor Sammy wanting soooo much for you to believe. You have to admit...there is a certain irony in how all this is turning out!"

Fear tore through his heart at the mention of his younger brother, biting deeper than any physical pain.

"Leave...leave Sammy out of this," Dean rasped, feeling now the drain on his body. "He...he's not part of the Deal anymore. You have me."

The cruel laugh resounded once more in the hell-fire. "My poor Dean...of course he is. It's always been about Sammy. All part of the Big Plan. You...making the Deal. Back _upstairs_. _Castiel!! _Time to come home, Dean...you've done your job!"

To somewhere off behind, out of the young hunter's eye-line, Alistair turned his musing with malicious delight, "He's not understanding this at all, is he!"

In a world of pain, from the fierce heat that ravaged his body and sick with growing fear, Dean tossed and turned on his cruel chains trying desperately to see who his tormentor was talking too.

The demon continued his cruel taunting. "See, here's the kicker, Dean...and I do love a good punch-line." Alistair leaned a little closer, causing Dean to instinctively turn away. "Castiel! He's one of the bad guys....he's one of ours."

Dean's eyes went wide with shock and disbelief; the hoped for reaction bringing about a cruel satisfaction. "No...no, not true. Can't be.... No, it's not true, you lying piece of hell-scum," the eldest Winchester then finally determined; too afraid to consider the awful possibility.

"I suppose _that is_ one of the things we do well...the lying....," Alistair concurred, in totally psychotic musing, ".....but I'm afraid, in this case, Dean....and it _really _hurts me to use this word....I'm telling the _truth_."

This was not how he remembered things.

An evil smile curled on the demon's mouth. "I know what you're thinking, Dean."

"Oh, you so don't," the eldest Winchester half-laughed, feeling he was going slowly mad.

But the white-eyed demon continued. "Him and me....all that, upstairs! Just a charade, Dean...just a charade. For your benefit. We needed you to believe....and you didn't let us down, my boy. You were sooo needy, Dean."

Sick fear was rising in Dean now, almost overriding the burning heat of his body.

"Hello, Dean."

That voice; that so familiar voice of quiet, dryly intoned curiosity and wonderment. As familiar to him now as the voice of his younger brother; he would recognise it anywhere, even in the dark. It made his blood run cold, despite his heated pain and his body refused to breathe; stifled breath catching in his throat.

Castiel stood in front of him now, that same passive look of idle curiosity on his face. "I thought you would better appreciate this 'form', Dean....," he continued to intone quietly, indicating his 'holy tax accountant' appearance, "....it is how you know me best."

"And he does 'holy' so well....don't you think!" Alistair jibed sarcastically.

"Makes no difference to me....you lying, unholy hell-trash," Dean ground out; trying desperately for his bravado to hide the tortured despair he was really feeling at the deep betrayal.

Almost instantly, the brash young hunter regretted the action, as Castiel seemed to grow in stature; his black wings unfurling to stretch to their full magnificence. Dean instinctively cowered, turning his head away, eyes cast downward; the Angel evoking in him the same reverential fear he had felt, once before, in a dingy motel room.

"You know, you _really_ should show me some respect, Dean.....," Castiel intoned with quiet menace, as he pressed up close to his captive but never touching. "....all those smart-mouthed, wise-ass comments I've had to take from you....up there! Now look at me, Dean." When the compliance didn't come quickly enough, the dark-haired hunter heard a tone he'd never heard before. "I. Said. Look at me, Dean."

The forceful tone of command drew Dean's eyes to lock with Castiel as if under a spell, unable to resist. And what the young man saw almost made his heart stop; something new among the demon ranks. The Angel's eyes flashed a deep and vivid...purple; mesmerising in their beauty, yet terrifying.

"When all this is over, Dean Winchester....you and I are going to spend a long time together......and _I will _teach you to respect me."

Dean finally managed to breathe, having to suck in great gulps of hot, sulphurous air; his lungs at bursting point, when Castiel, at last, moved away.

"I would show him some respect," Alistair advised, in feigned concern. "He's really big on all that 'respect' stuff. Not part of that 'holy' act either....it's for real. Let you in on another little secret," he continued, drawing closer now, as though he were doing Dean a huge favor. "Me! Yeah, sure I'm just your average high-ranking demon...along with a few others, who I _know_ you know...." The eyes flashed extra white for emphasis. "...just head honcho here in the old 'slice n dice' house. You remember, Dean? Letting you off the rack...how much you were starting to enjoy yourself! Isn't that what you told Sammy? You were becoming very creative too, Dean! But Castiel here...," he added, in exaggerated whisper, "....he's 'royalty'."

The hunter's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Come on, Dean...get with the programme," Alistair cajoled, delighted with the reaction. "We know Ruby filled you in on how we get to be who we are....stripped of all humanity, we get to be 'born again'. But Castiel...he's the _real _deal. He's one of the elite, Dean....one of the Fallen. A genuine, honest-to-goodness Fallen Angel.....royalty. And you should feel privileged, Dean. He asked for your assignment, personally."

He was fast losing all hope; little or no fight left in him.

"Why, Cas...why," Dean weakly implored, almost as if he thought there might actually be some vestige of the Angel he knew.

If ever a fallen angel were to show pity for the condition of a human soul in torment, it was to be expressed but briefly in Castiel's quietly benign smile. "Confession, Dean....they say it's good for the soul." The last bit though was meant as more than a little wry sarcasm. "......And that's what we needed from you.....for Sam."

Fearful panic again took a grip, never mind he was still trying to get his head around the truth about Castiel. "Don't...don't understand. What have you done to him! The Deal was for me...just me. Saammmy! SAAMMMY."

"We have done nothing, Dean," Castiel calmly assured.

"Yeah, it was all down to you Dean, my boy. Isn't that just peachy," the white-eyed demon joined in, with malicious delight. And between them, they revealed the horrible truth.

"You see, Dean....time is running out...and we needed to 'fast-track' Sam, if you like," the fallen Angel began. "We sent out all our best people....to tempt him....."

"....to use those Hell-given powers of his. But he kept holding back," Alistair continued. "Yeah, sure Ruby has taught him a few tricks....but the little bitch just isn't you, Dean."

"But he listens to you, Dean. He has always looked up to you, his big brother."

"So, we devised a plan....or rather Castiel here did. It was his idea...a deliciously beautiful plan. Just meant letting you go 'upstairs'....for a little while."

"I...I tried to keep him safe. I...I tried to stop him," Dean groaned; his bewildered mind a whirl of tortured pain.

"We know you did, Dean," Castiel soothed, with what almost seemed like genuine sympathy. "But that's what sealed it for him."

"Yeah, your confession. You told him about your time here with us, in the old 'slice n dice' house. How much you _enjoyed_ it....torturing all those poor souls," the white-eyed demon added with evil delight. "You told him your darkest, ugliest secret, Dean."

The Angel betrayer picked up. "You thought he would be shocked....maybe enough to make him stop and think of what he was really doing...what he was getting into."

"And this is the beautiful part. You're gonna love it."

"Sam felt...if it was alright for Dean to let go, to give in to something like that...then it was alright for him too....to give in to his destiny. He finally embraced who he was meant to be! So thank you, Dean Winchester....it was all you. _You_ have made Sam the person we need him to be. We couldn't have done it without you."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO". The agonised scream could be heard in the farthest corners of Hell.

The heat and pain had dissipated now; he felt cooler, could no longer hear the tortured screams. Wearily, Dean opened his eyes.

"Dean....you're awake. Thank gawd," Sam Winchester sighed in relief. "That was one hell of a fever you had there, bro. Hey and I've made you some soup...thought you might be hungry."

Relief flooded through his body and soul like a cleansing river. He was here; he was still here.

"Sammy," the elder Winchester rasped weakly. "What color are Cas's eyes?"

Sam cocked a quizzically bemused look at his brother. "You're thinking about the color of a guy's eyes! What kind of a dream were you havin, bro!"

"Sammy! Just tell me. What color?" Dean grizzled.

"Blue, Dean...they're blue. Castiel's eyes are blue," the younger Winchester assured.

"And they've always been blue? You've never seen them change?" Dean quizzed, still weak and exhausted from his fever.

"No Dean, they've never changed," Sam continued to assure, with the same quizzical bemusement. "You seriously need something to eat, bro. I'll go get you that soup."

The elder of the hunters sank back against the pillows, awash with relief.

"Emm, just one thing though, Dean....." Sam stopped in his tracks and turned. ".....I know we've been through some bad things, said things.....but I just want you to know. I'd never have come this far without you. So thanks Dean, it's all down to you...for making me the person I am."

Sam never heard the silent, agonised cry tear at his brother's soul.


End file.
